Thank you analect :)

9:25 Dragon, Spring

Sebastian,

Thank you for your letter for I know you to be a gentleman and was so reminded by your eloquent apology. I hope you know that I would never hold hard feelings in my heart for you, and while your behavior that evening was not commendable, I know you as my life-long friend and accept your apology wholeheartedly. Indeed, I would very much like to remain friends.

I was most disappointed not to have been afforded the opportunity of saying goodbye before you left, but Corbinian has informed me that you are faring well in Kirkwall and I believe he even plans to visit this summer. Though I believe Beenie is trying to arrange for me to accompany him and his family on this trip, my parents aren't too fond of traveling and now that Innley has been sent to the Circle, I have been gifted with more of their attention. It is my belief that I will remain in Starkhaven for the summer, yet again.

I admit that I do not know much of your circumstances. I have only been told that you were pledged to the Chantry in Kirkwall by your parents and that you won't be returning which, I have to say, saddens my heart to think I will never see you again. However, if you can find some happiness in your new life, then my heart will surely gladden for you though I will miss the carousing, as we all will. I understand that studies within the Chantry can be all-consuming, but if you find time to write to me occasionally, I will be grateful to correspond in return.

Also, Beenie claims many things, and if you do end up calling me cousin one day, that will surely be a surprise to us all.

Your friend from afar,

Samantha

Samantha read over the letter three times, rewriting it once before she folded it over again and again, finally pouring a puddle of hot wax and stamping it with her family's seal. The post was coming later in the day and she intended this letter make it out before her parents could rip it open and check its contents. Over the years, she had perfected dodging their interventions.

With a parasol over a shoulder, she sat on one of the benches in the front gardens of her estate waiting dutifully amongst the bright green vines that framed the doorway and the colorful blooming flowers that lined the walk. The winter had been awfully dreary, and once the flowers began to bloom, all of the nobles took to the outdoors, desperate for some color.

Instead of her usual always-in-mourning shades of grey, Lady Preston sauntered by wearing a pink shawl that she had worn once or twice last season. Its fringe had traces of silver and Samantha thought, just like last season, that it was an awfully youthful piece of clothing for an elderly widow to be wearing. Lord Garrity and his son Benjamin stopped to bow and offer gentlemanly greetings, the elder wearing a taupe vest and the younger's doublet was a pleasant green with deep yellow piping. The pair looked dashing. Arianna Marziano in a strawberry-red hat and jacket had strolled by on the arm of someone Samantha didn't know, and thus assumed he was of lower rank. But it was Flora who interrupted Samantha's vigil.

From down the street, she watched her friend politely greet the Garritys. Samantha spotted her by the traditional lavender she almost always wore, in this case a long jacket, but she wasn't carrying a sunshade nor dressed in finery; she was wearing her riding pants. That would explain why her hair was coming loose from the hastily tied ribbon, but there was something off. While her boots were dusted in dirt, her riding pants were strangely clean; usually, her saddle left marks on the back of her legs. She was massaging her forearms and kept stretching her shoulders, as though it was her upper body only that ached. From on the other side of a fence, Samantha had spent years watching her friend learn to ride, and had come to know how taxing the activity could be, not just to the clothes but to the body as well.

Leaning against the front gate with her letter firmly in the breast pocket of her light jacket, she watched Benjamin smile wide, his laughter traveling down the street on the breeze, but Flora didn't match his enthusiasm at their meeting. Samantha often wondered why her friend spurned most suitor's advances – who or what was she waiting for?

Flora was hopelessly trying to pull her hair back into her ribbon when she spotted Samantha watching her musingly. She laughed and sauntered over. "Maker… is everyone outside today?"

"Of course! It's beautiful out. Where did you come from?"

"Nowhere," Flora answered quickly, retrying to tuck her hair back into her ribbon. "I mean, I was riding."

"Where's your crop?"

"My what?"

Samantha crossed her arms across her chest, catching her friend in an obvious lie. "Your crop. You know, that stick that you hit those poor horses with."

"Oh… well, I must've left it." It only took a moment for the façade to fall. "Oh, fine! I was practicing."

"Practicing what?"

Flora displayed her fingers, which were a little callused. "I've been applying a special balm to my hands for years now so no one would notice, but it's not working as well anymore."

"Archery?" She laughed at her friend. "Whatever for?"

Flora shrugged. "I don't know. I like it. And I'm good at it, so why not?"

"Do your parents know?"

"Of course. My father bought me a new bow for my name day last year."

"You said he got you a new vanity."

"Well, he got me that, too."

Samantha nudged her friend playfully and Flora laughed a little, turning her eyes back to the street and they both relaxed back on the bench under the shade of Samantha's parasol. Flora looked like she could use the rest.

Several families walked by, ladies and lords, and the girls said hello to all, politely smiling and nodding and standing up to curtsy to some of the wealthier nobles. Some dirty children managed to appear as well, scrambling around and away and then there were some strange adventuring folk, dirty as street rats from the elven alienage, who paid the girls absolutely no mind whatsoever. A few Templars walked by, some sneering and others leering, but from the safety of her front gate, Samantha could treat them with as much disdain or politeness as she liked.

Finally, the postman appeared and she handed over her letter.

"How long until it reaches Kirkwall?" she asked.

"'Bout a tenday, mistress," the man replied politely. "Kirkwall isn't that far, but she isn't so close either. Might be more if the rains come early."

"Thank you." She offered a small courtesy bow which was his cue to leave and she checked the letters in her hand for anything addressed to her but everything was for her father and mother.

Flora turned a suspicious eye her way. "Who are you sending a letter to in Kirkwall?"

"Sebastian. He finally—wrote to me." She almost said apologize, but she didn't want to have to explain why.

"Oh."

Samantha leafed through the letters and packages, wondering if she received any. There was a letter from Orlais, friends who had moved from Starkhaven two summers ago because they just couldn't take the heat any longer. There were three invitations to parties coming up in the next month; Samantha recognized the names of the families in town and knew their party-inviting stationary. There was a small package from Markham, likely from her uncle on her father's side who was always traveling to the strangest places, often small towns rather than big cities, and without fail would send some small trinket from the various placed he stayed. Finally, there was a letter from the Vaels – no wait, it was from Corbinian! She recognized his lazy handwriting. But it was addressed to her father!

Flora peered over her shoulder and her eyes went wide as she reached over and snatched it from Samantha's fingers. "What's this?"

"Give it back!" Samantha chased her around the perfectly trimmed rhododendrons, but Flora was taller and she held the letter high in her hands. "Flora!"

Her friend just laughed, sing-songing her teases. "Whatever could this be?"

Samantha laughed as well, chasing Flora into her estate, the door swinging wide and the servants were left to close it before the heat of the day invaded their carefully shaded interior. Flora easily out-maneuvered Samantha, who was stuck in a long dress as she gave chase up the stairs and down the hall and into what used to be Innley's room, finally cornering Flora near the far window, the one that overlooked all of Starkhaven all the way to the Circle.

"It's addressed to my father!" Samantha pointed the tip of her parasol in Flora's direction. "You can't open it!"

Flora opened up the sides a little without breaking the wax seal, bringing it up to her squinting eyes. "Maybe I can—"

But Samantha snatched it away just like that and went careening down the hallway to her parents' study, Flora on her heels and they were laughing like they used to when the things that held the most import were flowers and dresses and books, and where to go outside to catch butterflies and learning to dance and sing and play the piano, way before topics like boys seemed to overshadow all of those things.

They burst into her parents' study, the large wooden doors swinging so wide that they banged up against the wall and her mother let out a cry of shock at the suddenness and loudness of their entrance.

"Father!" Samantha was breathless with Flora behind her, but she quickly composed herself when he gave her an incredulous scowl. "Pardon us, Father, the post has arrived."

"Maker's breath!" Samantha's mother exclaimed with a hand on her chest. "The post arrives every day, Samantha, I don't see why this day should require such tumult!"

"My apologies, mother." She curtsied. "Just a bit of fun with Flora. I didn't mean to alarm—"

"We won't have this behavior from you." Her father's voice was stern. "You are no longer a child but a lady and should be acting as such."

"Yes, Father." She kept her eyes to the floor and Flora stood at her side in similar posing.

"Well, bring it here," he huffed, and she obeyed. "Ahh, now I understand. This is the Vael family seal, is it not?"

Samantha was going to answer him, but her mother's interest piqued enough to turn her nerves from frayed to calm. "Oh? Are we invited to another brunch? I so enjoyed their company."

"Not exactly," her father grumbled, reading the letter. "Samantha, you may go."

"But father—"

"Are you going to make it a habit to defy my wishes?" He looked up to her pointedly.

"No, Father. I'm sorry." She curtsied again before turning on her heels and leaving the study. Flora grabbed her by the hand, and they broke into a run down the hallway to Samantha's room. Once inside, they closed the door, laughing like ridiculous girls who had just got away with breaking all the rules.

"Beenie sent that, didn't he?" Flora plopped down on Samantha's giant bed. "A letter from one Vael and then another! Pretty soon, you'll have Goran writing to you, too."

"The Vaels write letters to everyone."

"Maybe to you," she muttered sullenly.

Samantha had always known that Flora thought Sebastian was handsome – they both did – and once or twice she may have suspected that Flora would have reciprocated such feelings had Sebastian propositioned her, but Flora had never told her about any such event. Though they were best friends, as the years had taken their adolescence, Flora had grown with secrets. Samantha had watched as she withheld more and more in her desire to be unique.

At first it was little things, like special dolls from foreign countries that she didn't want Samantha to order or specialty sweets that she wanted served at her parties and no one else's and so she would never tell anyone what she liked. As they got older, Flora clammed up about nearly all of her preferences; clothes, jewelry, food, sport, boys, girls, places, and numerous other favorites. It was like she didn't want to like what everyone else liked and didn't want anyone else to like what she liked and always displayed irritation when someone else would declare fondness for something she had shown affection for. It left Samantha feeling somewhat sad, because she would go on and on about her tastes and Flora wouldn't say much in return aside from the usual that's lovely or good choice. Only when pressed would her friend admit to her fancies.

Enough time had passed for the secrets to form a life of their own, breeding inside her like the fish in the Minanter. Now it was archery – it didn't seem to matter what it was, just that no one else did it, and no one knew about it. But on this day, Flora finally lowered the curtain a little and Samantha spied her friend true.

It started with Samantha's offhand comment: "If it's a Vael you want, Goran seems quite keen on you."

"Oh Maker, don't make me vomit." She stuck out her tongue in disgust. "I miss our friends, I guess. Ruxton, too. He's always going on about Sebastian. Think he'll ever come back?"

"No," Samantha said simply. "He's a brother of the Chantry, likely to become an initiate. He will take Andraste for his bride and—"

"Ahh!" Flora brought her hands to her face, throwing herself backwards on Samantha's bed, her elbows pointed to the ceiling.

"Flora?" Samantha rolled to her side, propping herself up on her elbow. She imagined that if she could see Flora's face, she would see the rest of her friend's secrets.

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing!" When Flora didn't respond, Samantha said, "What did I say? Is it Sebastian?"

Flora made a whimpering noise.

Samantha hopped up to her knees. "It is Sebastian!" But her smile faded. "Oh, Flora…"

Her friend sighed loudly, her arms falling out to the sides. "He would visit our estate in Kirkwall and stay with us at least three times a year. He and his brothers and his mother while his father had business in town organizing trading partners and such. We used to play chess and read books and walk around Hightown. The lot of us used to be so close. Then we all got older, and his brothers married and Brett married, and now they all have tiny babies and…"

"Why did you never tell him?" Samantha asked gently.

"I did!" she wallowed in response. "It was a summer night in Kirkwall, the night of the Annual Masked Ball – you know that big party the Viscount throws every year since the Empress visited almost… what, ten years ago? Whatever, anyway… we weren't allowed to go, and so we went to the roof, drank a bunch of wine, watched the revelers in their crazy masks and elaborate gowns… And he kissed me. Under the stars with the music in the air. It was glorious… But then he didn't remember anything the next time I saw him. He must have been really drunk. But I remembered. And now he's gone…"

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Because…" Flora sat up, finally meeting Samantha's eyes, her own brimming with rarely displayed guilt. "I thought he liked you. And I was afraid you liked him back and I didn't want… Oh, I'm terrible."

Samantha just smiled and grabbed her hand. "I've never had my eye on him. And even if I did, if I had known how you felt, I would have pushed him from my thoughts right then. There are plenty of boys out there, Flora. Let Sebastian go and find another to fill your heart."

"You're so much better at this than me." Flora sighed loudly again, and then she turned to look about the room. The afternoon sunshine softly pushed through the curtains and they sat for a moment before she said: "Have you got any wine?"

They laughed, but Samantha silently lamented all the boys who pined for Flora Harimann, and the one boy who likely never would.

"It's just as well." Flora sighed. "My mother always drove his family batty. She is so jealous of his mother with her wealth and stature…"

"Well, your mother is an overachiever then, because the Vaels are about as wealthy and stature-ly as they come!"

"Speaking of, I'd better go. My mother will have my hide if I'm not washed up in time for dinner."

"Oh, right!" Samantha jumped to her feet in agreement.

She hugged Flora before seeing her to the door and rushing back upstairs to clean up. While brushing her hair, she spied the locket inside her vanity but instead decided on a diamond pendant that her father had given her on her fourteenth name day. When she arrived for dinner, her mother looked positively rosy, aglow with some kind of delightfulness dancing around her head. On the other side of the table, her father looked grumpy.

"Father, may I ask what was in the letter?" Samantha asked politely as an elf poured her a glass of sweetwine and another elf served her a fresh cut of salmon topped with some kind of creamy sauce.

Her father grumbled, and so her mother answered for him, the corners of her mouth were bouncing all over her face as if she was trying to compose herself and failing. "The young Marquess, Corbinian, has requested an audience with your father."

"Oh?" Samantha played innocent as another elf rolled some asparagus spears onto a separate plate. "Has he a position for father? Perhaps at court?"

"No." Her father spoke plainly. "He wishes to speak about you."

"Me? Well, I certainly hope I have done nothing to offend…"

Another elf set down a small single-serving soufflé on yet another plate.

"Oh don't be silly, darling," her mother said. "We believe his intentions are honorable."

"Honorable…" Samantha nearly laughed at the word, for Beenie was honorable in the way that all scoundrels were. "Are you implying—?"

"Cut the act." Her father's tone was biting. "I know that you spend a lot of time with him, but from everything we know about him, he is reckless, juvenile, without respect for his elders or the young ladies he is often rumored with."

Samantha lifted an eyebrow, feeling that she knew more about Corbinian than her parents. He was often rumored to be in the company of many girls before his year spent in Nevarra. Upon his return however, it seemed like he had changed all of that. Though, perhaps still wicked, she hadn't caught him staring at any girl except for her. Her father's mention of it, however, left splinter of doubt in her mind – was Corbinian truly different? Or was she now the conquest? Her parents were definitely more strict than the rest of her friend's parents – could that be part of her allure? She didn't like having these thoughts.

"Do you like him, then? Do you want me to give him a favorable answer?" Her father pressed her for an answer.

And there it was: a direct question that she could finally give a direct answer to. She felt weird about the answer for moment, because it was sort of like asking for permission to kiss him madly in front of them, which felt awkward, and what if her father was right? Though still apprehensive in her dealings with Corbinian, she had begun to suspect he meant his claim of seriousness with her. What if she were mistaken?

"Well?" her father prompted her again, seemingly aware of his intimidation tactics.

"Yes, father. I would," she said, and then realized that she had been holding her breath. The servants behind her sounded like they were holding their breath, too.

"So you like this boy." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, Father."

"How much?" he demanded.

Samantha blinked. "Pardon?"

"How much?" he repeated, scowling at her.

Maker, did they already imagine her virginity spoiled?

"Um… a lot?"

"How much is that? If you can't answer—"

"Darling," her mother interrupted, and Samantha felt like she might cry under his interrogation. "You're being awfully harsh with her. Allow her to answer you with her heart."

He huffed, grouchy and grumbling. "Fine."

And then both of her parents looked to her expectantly, and she just stared back at them.

"Darling…." Her mother's gentle voice prompted her again, but Samantha suspected she just wanted her to convince her father to speak of Corbinian favorably. With his agreement, Lady Mayweather could tell all of her friends that her daughter would soon be royalty.

Samantha swallowed hard, glancing down at the glistening pink fish on her plate. "Beenie and I have been friends for as long as I can remember." She looked to both her mother and father. The former had her brows raised and her mouth turned upwards, encouraging her to continue, and the latter had his brows creased, his mouth turned down as if he had just eaten a lemon. "He is a gentleman, he would never injure me—" At least, she hoped that were true. "—and he is going to take the Oath of Starkhaven." Her father's brow's relaxed a little at that. "And I think further proof is that he wrote to you requesting an audience to discuss this." Her father's frown let up. "He is royalty, to be sure—" Her mother liked that part. "—but he is also a noble and he will be kind to me. He has always been."

And that last part was true, she thought. He had always been kind to her… well, at least since that incident with the painting oils when she was five.

"I'll consider it." Her father picked up his silver and cut into his fish. "Send them a letter will you, dear?"

"Of course, darling," her mother gushed, nearly breathless in anticipation of the task.

The letter was simply an acknowledgment and their non-refusal, but it was sort of a refusal in itself. It stated that her father would like to know him better before he granted him audience. Her mother penned it that evening while Samantha continued to read The History of the Chantry, having made it past the first two chapters which could have been books in themselves. Her father's customary page-crinkling was a little more animated that night, but Samantha and her mother ignored it.

No doubt her mother would press matters on this topic with her father behind chamber doors, because after all, it was an advantageous match – both financially and socially should it progress that far. But there was the matter of Corbinian's reputation, which was, to say amiably, not entirely agreeable. Samantha knew her parents, and it was only a matter of time before they changed their minds about him, likely under Corbinian's charming wiles - assuming this wasn't some elaborate royal ruse to satiate some carnal desire.

It was only after the lights were out later that night, when she dwelled on matters deeper that she thought herself foolish for thinking so unfavorably of Corbinian. Sebastian... perhaps, but such a ruse would have been entirely out of character for Corbinian. This was Beenie! She had never met anyone who could make her laugh more genuinely nor shock her so completely. He was crass and deviant yet sexy, funny, and quick of wit. While her mother was already won over by his title, her father required more, though everyone would agree that she couldn't do much better than the Marquess of Starkhaven. But if there was anything Samantha felt certain about, it was that she could find no better match than Corbinian Vael.